


this is the moment i surrender

by scorchstorm



Category: Ackley Bridge (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Attempted Suicide, Riz is a Good Friend, and abuse, brief mention of a homophobic slur, how does one tag?, i'll learn one day, soft boys talk about their feelings, talks about sexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-28 00:25:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15696432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorchstorm/pseuds/scorchstorm
Summary: There's a stretch of silence, and then Naveed continues in a soft tone, one that always manages to bring Cory back from wherever he's gotten himself lost."You're my best friend." And it's said like the only thing that matters.Because it is.// the one person Cory wants to speak to about his struggles is the one person who made him realise he's got them in the first place. but luckily, Naveed's always there for him. and he loves him for that.





	this is the moment i surrender

Cory feels like he can’t breathe.

It’s always there, that feeling. The tightness in his chest, the pounding of his heart. Some days it’s not as noticeable, not as painful, but it’s still there. Others it’s worse, like a raging storm, a constant reminder that he’s drowning. That no matter how hard he tries to stay afloat, tries to breach the surface, he can’t quite get there. He’s always pulled down before he can, and then the darkness comes.

That overwhelming, indescribable sensation. The shift of the tide, the piece of the puzzle that doesn’t quite fit with the rest. That never-ending knowledge that he’s not alright, he’s not coping, because he doesn’t know how to. For him to be able to cope, be able to know how to control it, he’d have to understand what it is he’s feeling. And he doesn’t, not really. Not nearly enough for him to even know where to go from here.

The only thing he does know is that it all comes back to Naveed. That’s the root of whatever this feeling is. It’s the starting point, the trigger, all because Cory got too close. He got too interested in the way his skin felt as though it were burning whenever Naveed touched him, too curious about the way he felt calmer around him, like he’s the only one who could ever really understand. The only one that manages to make Cory feel important.

_It made me feel like somebody actually cared._

And that - that kiss. Cory could say that’s where it started, but he doesn’t even know. It’s just another one of those defining moments, like being intimate with Naveed that one night, like confiding in him on that same bed. Like it was the only plausible thing, the only explanation.

_It felt right._

Not just the sex, but everything. He knows that, somehow. He thinks it’s because again, it’s linked to Naveed. And Naveed is the only thing he’s been able to make much sense of. How Naveed makes him feel is the only thing he can separate from everything else and just know that it’s different, with him.

And that’s what’s terrifying.

That’s partially why he’s stayed at home today, instead of meeting his mates or trying to pull. Naveed’s stand up had been only the night before, full of such confidence and acceptance, pride of who he is and shameless to show it. Cory loved it, seeing his friend literally being out and proud. He’s the best person Cory has ever known, and nobody deserves happiness as much as him. It’s a good look on him, happiness.

Cory had been afraid that after that conversation at school, after they spoke about their night together, that would be it. Their friendship wouldn’t be the same, that he’d ruined them completely. Because he’d slept with Naveed, and broke his heart, all in the span of twenty four hours. He’d hurt him.

_This isn’t just about you._

And it wasn’t, Cory knows. Except Naveed was right, when he angrily stated, “You knew how I felt, and don’t say you didn’t.” Because as clueless as Cory feels most of the time, he knew _something._ And that something should’ve been enough to stop Cory from acting on his impulses, his own interest, because he still doesn’t fully understand yet. That something should’ve brought Cory back down to Earth from the clouds, stopped him to say, “Think about this.”

All he understood was that he wanted Naveed. And he hadn’t wanted to hurt him, it was far from his intention, but. In all his years, Cory has never felt quite as welcome, quite at home like he does when he’s with Naveed. And so when they had that moment, when the lines between play fighting and intimacy blurred together, it changed. When Cory realised he could have more - more of this warmth, more of feeling accepted, and loved, and light - he took that opportunity.

And almost lost his best friend with it. It’d been so hard to choke those words out, but Cory had wanted to be honest. When he said it felt right, that he wanted to be with Naveed. Except then that feeling came back, that crippling anxiety and that overwhelming dark. That sensation of something eating away at him inside, rippling in his chest, rendering him breathless. It did more than make him lie right to Naveed’s face, that it didn’t mean the same to him. It made him ignore it.

Until now.

Cory thinks he gets it, now. Why he’d ignored it so desperately. It’s too much. It’s consuming, and relentless, and it’s thick. Enough to make him feel like he’s got a noose around his neck and that he’s choking. Enough to make him feel unworthy of anything like that again, of being content.

So he locked it down and threw the key away, and in an instant, the warmth that pooled in his stomach when he woke up in the same bed as Naveed morphed into cold, fierce and biting. It made his veins feel frozen, coated in ice, as he stood there and threw his arms out wide. “I’m not gay, you’re not straight.”

That’s just it. He’s not gay, he’s not. He knows he’s not. He’s loved hooking up with girls his whole life, and one boy wasn’t going to change that. Even if it was the one boy more important that anyone else in his life. Even if it was the only time Cory had been with someone and been able to smile, wide and genuine, with the words, “It felt right,” feeling light on his tongue.

Just thinking about that night makes him even more aware that the sun has gone away, shielded by dark clouds that hang over his head. The duvet covering his body is no longer comforting, it’s stifling, and he has to kick it away from him with frantic limbs because it’s too much. He’s surrounded by his bed, the one they shared. Encased by the reminders of their tangled bodies, surrounded by the echoes of their breathy moans, taunted by the ghost of Naveed’s mouth.

Naveed is everywhere, still. In his mind, all over his bed. His scent clings to the sheets and his memory is embedded in the walls. The window of his room is open, letting in a slight breeze, and the way it traces over Cory’s bare skin makes goosebumps erupt all over, enough to make him feel as though Naveed’s fingertips are still leaving impressions all over him, even now.

And then that feeling comes back. Like he’s lost, and doesn’t know how to find himself. Like there’s something he’s forgetting, or missing, and there’s no reminder for him to follow. It’s gnawing away at him, deep to his bones, and it makes him dry heave as he folds over to one side. Folding in on himself, bringing his knees to his chest and curling his toes.

Cory burrows his face into the pillow, ignoring the flashes behind his eyes, the kaleidoscope of memories lighting up his head in vibrant technicolour. It’s fleeting, something he can’t quite hold on to even though he wants to desperately. And so the colours run out, fading into shades of grey, and he’s crying, gasping for air with nobody to remind him how to breathe.

_I wish I could be what you want me to be, but I can’t_.

Cory clenches his eyes shut and wishes, wishes, wishes on everything he has to offer.

(He doesn’t think it’s enough.)

(He doesn’t think he ever has been.)

 

* * *

 

Thing is, Naveed is his best friend.

And that’s great, it is. He’s always been there for him, always been exactly what Cory needs. Except it’s a blessing turned into a curse, because now, the one thing he so desperately needs to talk about, to find where to begin, is the one thing he can’t talk about with Naveed. He can’t. It involves them both, it involves him bringing up what they had together.

It involves Naveed being hurt again, in some way or another.

And he can’t do that to him, not again. He hadn’t even meant to hurt him the first time. He’d wanted to be with him, and hadn’t wanted to pretend it didn’t happen because he knew that would be damaging. Though Cory managed to do enough damage as it were, and whilst Naveed’s heart was already breaking, he went and twisted the knife when it came to light that he’d shagged another girl the day after.

The reminder makes something thick and heavy coil in his stomach, something wrapping around his lungs like a vice, squeezing and squeezing. His chest stutters, lower lip quivering-

“Cory!”

His name is followed by a sharp snap of fingers, and it’s enough to remind Cory to inhale deeply, quietly, like it were a secret he needed to keep. He blinks once, twice, three times, coming back down from spacing out, eyes focusing on the table beneath him and the forgotten worksheet lying on top.

“You with us, mate?”

It’s Riz, still in that daft neck brace, staring at him expectantly once he finally looks up. There’s a crease in between his brows from where he’s frowning, as though he’s cottoned on that something’s not right.

It makes Cory shift in his seat, hyperaware that he’s in class, that he can’t afford to break right now. Mr Hyatt is talking vaguely in the background, he knows, except it falls on his ears in a muffled tone, as though he’s teaching from three doors away. Cory pays no attention to the rest of the class, only acknowledging that the room is full because he can see the blurs of uniform colours in his peripherals. That, and the more people there are around him, the less he seems to be able to compose himself.

He doesn’t dare look at Naveed, whose also sat with them, also staring at Cory with something he can’t place.

Cory nods, swallowing, eyes darting about the place before meeting Riz’s briefly. “Yeah, just tired,” he exhales, bowing his head to feign newfound concentration.

“You want us to come round later?” Naveed asks gently, the kind of tone you’d use when approaching a wounded animal, knowing you could scare it off if you aren’t careful enough.

He’s not daft, he knows what his mates are trying to do. With his dad still in hospital, and Jordan still in care, the house is always vacant. There’s nobody but him, constantly, and it’s almost poetic in the sense that it reflects how he’s felt for most of his life.

It’s not like people haven’t tried. Candice came round a few times to bring him food after that whole food bank debacle, but they aren’t exactly friends. She brings baby Jamie with her and it’s a constant reminder that he can’t even take care of himself, let alone his kid. Growing up, he’d vowed he’d never be like his dad, but being around everyone just further proves Cory’s point. He’s exactly like his dad. He’s worthless, a waste of space. A pathetic excuse of a brother and an even worse person, and he can’t treat anybody right, even when he tries to.

Riz and Naveed are always trying to keep him company. They’re always offering to sleep round his, always offering to bring him food or whatever else he needs. They’re always offering to just be there for him, whether he needs them desperately that day or whether he feels he’s coping just fine on his own. Cory has never asked them to, that volatile combination of too much pride and stubbornness preventing him from doing so, but they know he’s lonely. They know a lot more than he wishes they did, especially Naveed, these days.

“Nah,” Cory refuses, except there’s no bite in his tone. “I’m alright.”

“We haven’t crashed at yours in days,” Riz says, almost like prompting Cory to cave, to change his mind.

“And you didn’t really talk to us yesterday,” Naveed adds.

“Maybe I just wanted to be alone, you ever thought of that?”

It silences the table, the way Cory snaps like an elastic band stretched too thin. Riz and Naveed are staring at him, he can feel it, but he focuses on curling his fist tight around his pen, glaring at the words on his sheet until they become blurred. Until they become nothing but black squiggles and he can’t make sense out of them, even if he tried. A bit like himself, actually. All jumbled up with no sense of order.

“Yeah,” Riz breaks after several agonising moments. “Yeah, ‘course.”

“Maybe we just wanted to let you know we’re here,” and it’s Naveed, fucking of course it is, and it does nothing but make Cory feel terrible.

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry, ‘bout snapping.” The guilt is thick and coats every syllable, and he focuses on the skin of his knuckles, the pure patches of white.

“It’s okay.”

“I’ll allow it.”

Naveed snorts, elbowing Riz fondly. “You’re in a neck brace. You’re in no position to say anything like that.”

“Well, he’s the one that put me in this brace, ain’t he?” Riz laughs, clearly teasing.

Except it just makes Cory hyperaware to the lump building in his throat, to the tension that’d escalated in his body on that day, on that pitch. The fact that he took Riz out and could’ve broken his neck, could’ve done so much more damage to him than he already had.

He’d freaked out about the scout, about Mr Bell’s faith in him, and the possibility that he might get to actually provide for Jordan. He could’ve actually been able to be a good brother for once in his life, and he ruined it, and ruined Riz, and -

And he’d freaked out about kissing Naveed moments prior in that changing room. How he just knew, deep in his bones, that he was going to blow it. Then came Naveed, full of faith and determination, full of energy. Helping him to believe in himself, helping him to get back on track. And then they’d kissed, and he liked it, and he’d pushed Naveed away when he leaned back a second time, _what’re you doing-_

“Mate, seriously now,” it’s Riz again, void of any humour. “You’re kinda freaking me out.” A sigh. “Look, if it’s about me neck-”

“I’m so sorry about that, man-”

“It’s fine,” Riz dismisses. “I’m fine, alright? I’ll be good to go soon, I’ll get the brace off in a few weeks. I know you didn’t mean anything, you’ve got a lot going on, so... I didn’t mean to make you feel shit, honest.”

“It’s fine,” Cory echoes, nodding once. Maybe if he says it enough, it’ll ring true one of these days. “I’m fine.”

There’s a tap against his shin at the same time Riz shoots him a smile, and then he’s glancing down at his work again. There’s another tap, from the tip of a shoe, and Cory shifts his eyes over to Naveed whose already staring at him.

He tilts his head forward once, in a nod, as if to ask him, “Are you sure?”

No, he wants to admit, wants to shake his head. Except he can’t afford to let Naveed know anything’s wrong. Because that would mean he’d want to help, and this is something he can’t help with. Or at least Cory doesn’t want him to.

He doesn’t think he can let him get hurt again, after everything with his parents, with Cory himself.

So he nods once, the corners of his mouth stretched into a tense smile, and he looks down.

Cory still can’t make sense of anything.

Not even after school, when he’s sat in detention from failing to do his work in lesson, and all he can do is watch the words merge together again, as though forming a riddle he’s got no hope of deciphering.

And then there’s that moment, when he breaches the school gates and is heading home, that he remembers. He’s only got himself again now. Jordan’s been spotted around on occasion, like a shadow that lurks. He’s always gone, fleeting, before Cory can do anything. Before he can apologise, and tell him he wants him home.

His dad is still in hospital, after that stunt on the roof. Cory can barely graze his eyes against the shingles before he’s taken back to being stuck helplessly on the ground, Jordan next to him, both calling out desperately. Pleading for their dad to get down, to not abandon them like mum had. Pleading even though he’s beat Jordan black and blue constantly, kicked him out the house. Even though Cory never did anything but freeze up, but hate himself, for not doing anything about it.

So Cory only has himself, though he knows when he gets home it’ll feel different. For the house may be empty, but it’s filled to the brim of ghosts. Echoes of skin against skin, bouncing off of the walls, like his dad never tried to kill himself. Like Jordan never got taken away and is still getting pummelled by him, even now. Like Cory can never escape, even when he’s the only one left.

He’s walking with his head down, hands in his blazer pockets, just wishing that maybe one of these steps would be enough for the ground to give way and swallow him whole.

Cory’s only got himself, and as he looks up towards his house -

He freezes.

He’s not alone.

Riz and Naveed are at his doorstep.

 

* * *

 

 

“We’ve ordered pizza,” is the first thing Riz says once he’s close enough, light in contrast to the darkness of the house behind him.

“Thought I told you lot I was fine,” Cory says, brushing past them immediately to clamp his hand down on the door handle, to give him something to cling on to. It opens instantly, having remained unlocked for days on end, because Cory figures there’s no point locking up when there’s never been anything worthwhile inside.

“Thought we told you we’re here for you,” echoes Riz, footsteps dragging inside after him.

Cory ignores him, heading straight for the kitchen and leaving them in the dust momentarily. There’s shuffling from back in the hallway, the thudding of bags hitting the ground and shoes being taken off, which he thinks is daft because the place is a mess as it is.

He has to anchor himself against the kitchen counter, head bowed and shoulders tensed, as he reassures himself that they don’t mean any harm. _These are your friends, they don’t pity you. It’s fine, your fine, everything is-_

“Cory?”

His head snaps up so fast he thinks he gives himself whiplash. The slight blurriness of his vision that follows might be from that, or it might be because Naveed is hovering in the doorway, concern practically rolling off of him in waves.

“Don’t be mad at us,” it’s quiet, floating through the kitchen like the soft afternoon breeze outside. “We just want to help.”

“I know,” Cory replies. He just doesn’t know how to accept that.

He watches Naveed fiddle with the end of his school tie, fumbling for words. “Just wanted to be near you for a bit,” he admits, and it’s the way he says it that makes Cory’s chest ache.

“Okay.”

“Dickheads!” Riz calls from the living room. “What are we watching?”

Cory can’t help but snort at that. “You pick, you’re the cripple,” he yells in a tease, delighted that he’s somehow managed to pull himself back from the depths, fall back into that usual routine he normally does at school.

Except then Naveed lets out a giggle and it shatters everything. The facade he somehow managed to put back up again is gone, and his face is falling before he can catch himself. It’s too hard, it’s too much. He doesn’t know how to handle this. He doesn’t know how to handle being around Naveed, still. And he knows it’s only been a few days, that things take time, but there’s been something bubbling for a while, even before they slept together. Beneath the surface, waiting to burst. Waiting to consume him until there’s nothing left.

Naveed must catch his shift, because he always does, and his own smile melts off of his face as though it were never there. “Cory,” he says.

“Don’t.”

He takes a deep breath. Pulls himself back together, stitching himself up to prevent himself from falling apart again. Cory allows himself to smile, slowly, looking into Naveed’s eyes. He’ll convince him, somehow.

“Let’s go before Riz trashes the place.”

Naveed’s eyes are alight with that watery look, that glassy appeal that screams vulnerability. That takes him back to the alleyway where Naveed let himself break and allowed Cory to pick up the pieces. Cory can see that he’s scared, too, and that he cares.

He’s always cared too much, Cory thinks, and the longer he stares into his eyes, the more he gets it. _I felt safe behind the lies_. It’s like he can hear a soft click, like a key sliding into a lock, two pieces connecting together.

Cory understands that now.

“You know,” Naveed says quietly. “You can talk to me. About anything.”

Cory knows he doesn’t just mean in general - like his dad, or Jordan. He means more about the struggle Cory’s clearly having, the war raging within himself over the knowledge that he was with a boy - his boy, his best friend - and it felt right. He liked it, and it’s something he should be able to talk about. To figure out, instead of burying it.

Instead of pretending.

“I know,” he lies. The only thing he does know is that he’s putting up a wall that he’s too used to now to think about taking down, to think about letting someone in about this. Especially not Naveed, not when he can’t quite place where it is he’s meant to begin.

There’s a stretch of silence, and then Naveed continues in a soft tone, one that always manages to bring Cory back from wherever he’s gotten himself lost.

“You’re my best friend.”

And it’s said like it’s the only thing that matters.

Because it is.

There’s a sudden pounding at the door that breaks the haze, and Naveed shuffles awkwardly, like a moment has just been ruined.

_“That was a moment, then.”_

Cory has to start counting to ten in his head, knuckles turning white, because he needs to calm down but he can’t turn his brain off. Can’t stop thinking about everything, about wanting to close the space in between himself and Naveed and just let himself feel, like he wants to. Like he should be able to.

Riz’s brace pops up before his face does, behind Naveed’s shoulder down the hall, holding pizza boxes. “Are you two done snogging? Can we eat now?”

Someone might as well light Cory on fire, at this point, because it already feels like he’s burning.

It’s Naveed that ends up reacting, turning around to head down the hall without even so much as a glance back at Cory, trailing after Riz like a puppy. “Shut up,” it rings out with his laughter, unaffected by the comment.

“Come on then, lad!” howls Riz. “There’ll be nothing left at this rate!”

He makes it to seven before he cracks, giving up entirely and heading down the hallway. Every step feels like a marathon, somehow, even when the hall ends in five steps and he’s flouncing into the living room.

Riz and Naveed are squabbling over a film to watch when he finally crashes down, knees giving in once the back of his legs brush the sofa. He’s close enough to Naveed that their thighs are touching and it simultaneously grounds him and makes him feel like he’s got no support at all.

Cory reminds himself to move, and helps himself to some pizza, which is just another kick in the face to remind him that he can’t afford this. That he didn’t pay them for it, didn’t give them anything towards it, and that they’re spending their own money on him. It makes him feel sick, and the pizza turns to cardboard in his mouth after the first bite.

“What are we watching, then?” he asks through his mouthful, and manages to morph his lips into his signature cheeky smirk before they turn to look at him.

If they notice the way his hands tremble, they don’t say a word.

 

* * *

 

 

They end up watching a few movies before the sun finally begins to set, coating the sky in a light orange dust that seeps through the living room drapes. It’s beginning to darken outside now that they’re on the third film, which just so happens to be Mean Girls because Riz caught sight of it and refused to put on anything else.

Not that they’ve really been watching the films, mind. They’ve had the giggles for hours, joking around. Gags about the films, about each other, everything and anything. It’s been one of the only times these past few days that Cory can actually say with confidence that what he feels right now is happiness. Warm, genuine happiness, with the honest smiles and proper laughter to match.

Cory feels content.

But as the night has progressed, as the darkness begins to come out beyond the window, so has his own. It crawls up his spine, ghosts over his skin, a reminder that it’s never been gone, just dormant. Long enough to make him feel like he’s got things under control, like he’s not as lost as he thought he was.

It doesn’t help that Naveed’s passed out on the sofa, curled up into a ball to take up as little room as possible, dead to the world and looking at ease. Cory wants to shake him awake, wants to tell him to stay with him and keep him company, wants to tell him everything that he can’t even put into words.

He doesn’t. He stands slowly, quietly, unfolding his legs from beneath him on the centre of the sofa. Riz is to his left, burrowed into the corner. They’d all agreed to crash downstairs, once Cory realised they weren’t leaving and had told their parents they were sleeping round. It made him feel safer, having people with him, but it still grated against his senses, still contrasted with the negativity that refused to settle.

It also helped that he didn’t have to go and sleep in his own bed for one night. He feels like the memories would be too much tonight, especially with both his mates in the house to witness him fall apart.

Cory takes another look at Naveed and swallows thickly, before turning and treading quietly out of the room.

And it’s Riz who finds him a few minutes later, sat near the back door on the floor. It’s wide open, letting in a breeze, because Cory was convinced that if he opened the door, he’d be able to breathe properly. The house is stifling, always, but it’s worse now that there are others inside that are suffocating him with their love, something that should be helping him to breathe instead of making him feel as though he’s holding his breath.

“What’s going on with you, then?”

“Did I wake ya?” Cory asks.

“Nah,” Riz says, somewhat groggily, and then he’s lowering himself on the ground next to Cory before he can protest. “Nav’s out like a light, though.”

It sobers him, that name. And he can’t choke it down quick enough, can’t manipulate his face before Riz sees the muscle jump in his jaw, the way his eyes dart around involuntarily.

“What’s going on with you, then?” he repeats, softer.

Cory knows there’s no point in lying, knows he can’t. And not only because he’s been caught out (not like he’s been that good at hiding anyway) but because he’s exhausted. The weight of everything is too great, and he hasn’t got enough energy anymore.

So he settles for an honest, “I don’t know,” that still manages to snag in his throat, because he’s still as scared as he was when he’s been covering it up. He knows all too well how safe lies make you feel, how pretending can protect you. Until it’s too much, too soon, and you’ve either got to face the music before you’re even ready or take the plunge yourself and admit the truth. He doesn’t know which way he falls, but both are beyond terrifying.

There’s a stretch of silence, and then Riz speaks, genuine concern in his tone. “Is it Nav?”

Cory keeps quiet.

“You do realise I think it’s great, the two of you? Even though you pricks never told me anything.”

“Wait, you what?”

“What?”

Cory practically chokes on his own tongue. “We’re not - we’re not together, Riz.”

One, two, three seconds pass, and then -

“Are you having me on?” Riz demands.

“What? No!”

“I just thought - you two had that night, didn’t ya?”

“Yeah,” he whispers, voice suddenly hoarse like he’s been yelling for days. It was briefly touched upon in Naveed’s stand up, and afterwards, Riz had just simply asked if it were true. He’d swallowed, and said yeah, and thankfully his mate left it at that, with no more questions asked.

‘Til now.

“Yeah, we slept together.” It feels strange referring to it so bluntly, as opposed to that night. It makes it all the more real, all the more concrete, and Cory can’t decide whether he likes it or not. Whether the way he feels is even allowed. “It was just one night, so. It’s fine.”

It’s not fine.

It’s not fine that he felt more in that one night with Naveed than he ever had with any girl. That despite not knowing anything about what was going on, with his feelings a complete mess, he knew that he had them. For his friend, and that everything felt right. It’s not fine that everything felt better with him, and that he’d slept with someone and had it actually mean something. It was always meaningless, fun, no strings. This somehow anchored him down and opened his eyes to the fact that maybe he could like somebody. And maybe they could like him back.

It’s not fine.

Riz shifts awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to push, I just thought the two of you were...”

“No.”

“Alright.” And then, after a pause. “Do you want to be?”

“Will you lay off?” Cory snaps, voice hushed to make sure they don’t wake Naveed. God forbid he hears what they’re talking about, that he gets upset again.

“I’m just asking a question,” counters Riz, equally as heated. “You don’t talk to us, mate-”

“How am I supposed to?!”

Riz goes quiet, and it’s those several agonising seconds that cement Cory’s next decision. The dam’s been broken, and the flood can’t be stopped, and he knows his head’s going under no matter what he does, so he might as well just ride the current and allow himself to be dragged to the depths.

“I don’t know what I’m feeling,” he confesses, and that simple sentence alone is somehow worth a thousand words, a dozen different feelings. It’s the weight of the world on his shoulders, and he can’t quite grasp how to let go.

“That’s okay, though,” Riz says quietly.

“Is it?”

“‘Course it is. Just because other people have their shit sorted doesn’t mean you have to.”

And it sounds so simple. Cory wishes it was. But there’s still a million thoughts shooting round his head, all overlapping, all linking back to-

“I’m not gay.”

“I never said you were.”

“I just-” he exhales through his nose in frustration, a huff that somehow takes all the breath from his body and he has to clench his eyes shut to focus. “I know it’s - it’s _more_ , with him.”

“Okay,” Riz says quietly, as if to say, continue.

“I’m just scared,” he says miserably.

“That’s okay.”

Cory laughs wetly at that, knowing that if he opens his eyes to do so much as glance at Riz, he’ll cry. And he doesn’t want to cry. He’s afraid his dad will burst in, even though he’s in hospital, and threaten to beat him if he doesn’t stop being such a pussy.

Such a _fag_.

“I think,” and Cory chokes on his words, lower lip trembling, because he doesn’t know what to do. “I think I might...”

He doesn’t finish, but he doesn’t have to.

“That’s okay,” Riz tells him quietly. Bless him, he sounds like a broken record, clearly not knowing what to say but trying all the same. Cory wants to tell him how much he appreciates him, but he knows he’ll just end up sobbing, and he doesn’t want that to happen.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“You like someone,” it’s quiet, barely a whisper. Said as though it’s common knowledge, like it’s obvious. Before now he’d figured that maybe Riz had cottoned on because he’s their friend, too. Except now he’s wondering how many people know. How many people can see it, written all over Cory’s face, audible in every breath he takes or word he says. How many people know he likes someone - a boy, his best friend. Naveed.

There’s that feeling again, like he can’t breathe. Like he’s drowning. Like his deepest, darkest secrets are coming to light and he doesn’t know what to do. “I _told_ ya, I’m not-”

“You could like both,” Riz interjects gently. “You don’t even have to put a name on it, if ya don’t want to. Fuck it.”

The words fall out of his mouth in a string of babble, like vomit. “I like girls - I like hooking up with girls. Always have. I’ve never liked a - I’ve never even looked at them like that.”

“You know, the world doesn’t just end because the person you like happens to be a boy.”

Cory’s face crumples, slowly and then all at once, and he’s crying now. The one thing he wanted to prevent, wanted to hold off on until the morning, until they left and he was alone again. It’s easier to break when you’re alone, when you can attempt putting the pieces back together on your own without the risk of anyone pitying you. You cut your hands on the pieces all the same, but it’s worth it, he thinks, because there’s nobody else getting hurt but him.

And he wants to scream, wants to yell that it’s not just because Naveed is a boy, not just because he’s clearly not straight, not anymore. It’s because “-he’s my best friend.”

“I know, I have eyes,” Riz attempts to joke, but he’s stumbling forward, fumbling awkwardly with that neck brace on. When he finds a position, one half of him lining up with Cory, he throws an arm around his shoulders and tugs him close, as close as he possibly can. Quietly, he adds.

“Maybe you don’t like boys. Maybe you just like the one.”

Maybe, maybe, _maybe_. It’s all Cory’s life consists of at the moment. Maybe his dad trying to commit suicide wasn’t his fault. Maybe his brother doesn’t hate him. Maybe he does deserve to be happy, one day.

“I like him,” Cory clarifies through his crying. It’s the first time he’s said it aloud, the first time he’s even managed to put it into words even though it sounds so simple. And after all this time, after torturing himself over finding the right way to talk about it, to know what it is he’s feeling, it all boils down to three little words. “I like him, and I don’t know what to do.”

Does he ever?

He wishes he were brave. He wishes he were better, that he were good enough for other people. For Naveed. Because the thought of telling him that he likes him is enough to make him cry even harder. As a best friend, aren’t you meant to hope that they’re happy? That they’re with someone that they deserve?

Cory doesn’t fit the criteria, doesn’t think he ever will, not fully. How is he meant to be enough? Naveed’s the entire night sky, and Cory’s on the ground, wanting and wanting but never being quite able to reach for the stars like he’d want to.

Like he wishes he deserves.

“You could tell him,” Riz says. “As scary as it is, it’s Naveed. Do you really think he’d make fun of ya? He’s whipped.”

Through his tears, Cory somehow manages a snort, an ugly wet sound that reminds him he must look a right state. But Riz just curls his fingers tighter into Cory’s shirt, presses against him harder, trying to anchor him down.

“I think he’d run a mile, when he realises.”

“Realises what?”

Cory shakes his head, looking down. The word _everything_ burns on his tongue, waiting to be freed, but he doesn’t let it out. He chokes it down instead, because he doesn’t think it needs saying. Thinks it’s too obvious to need clarifying.

“It’s like you said, he’s your best friend,” Riz says. “There isn’t anything you could tell him that’d make him run off. Odds are, he knows already.”

And, yeah. That sounds right. And then he thinks of Shannon walking down them stairs, hugging his side, and the way Naveed’s face had absolutely shattered against the ground. He thinks of the way Naveed bolted from the house, distraught, having hoped things could’ve been different even though he knew what Cory’s like.

Naveed knows he’d be setting himself up for heartbreak all over again.

Cory knows he’ll deliver.

“I can’t even breathe around him, sometimes,” says Cory, sniffling.

“Maybe you could, if you spoke to him.”

There’s that word again, _maybe_. Maybe the darkness could go away, maybe he could feel like he could breathe again. Maybe it’ll all be alright, one day, if he figures out how to make it so.

Except he can’t, knows he can’t, and he’s shaking his head. “Don’t say anything.”’

He feels Riz stiffen. “Cory, I can’t just-”

“Please.”

They fall silent, nothing but the sounds of their breathing and the occasional sniff from Cory, the quiet making it all the more real that it’s out there now. That he likes a boy, likes Naveed. Although apparently Riz could see it already, so it’s been out for longer than he’d thought. The knowledge doesn’t frighten him as much, because he could play it off before, act like Riz was just seeing things. Now he can’t.

“I need time,” Cory whispers. “I don’t know how to explain this - I don’t even know how to go about it, alright? But I think I want - I think I want to try. With him. I just need time to figure it out.”

He needs time to be able to even say Naveed’s name aloud again without wanting to run away, without wanting to argue ‘til he turns black and blue that someone doesn’t actually have a hold on him, that he actually likes someone in a way he never thought he would. Never thought he could.

“Alright,” Riz settles on, followed by a slight sigh, like he’s exhausted himself. “I won’t say anything to him, because you will.” The _eventually_ hangs in the air, unsaid, because neither of them know when exactly Cory will be able to do so.

“Yeah,” he whispers back, because he wants to, he does. Except all his life, growing up in this house, he’s always thought that there’s been no point in talking because there’s nobody there to listen. Nobody to even hear him out on what he has to say, what he wants to get off his chest.

Until now, until he’s confided in Riz and understood that there are people willing to listen to him. That they want to, because they want to help. Cory just needs to accept that, first, before he does anything else.

And that could take a while.

“It’ll be okay,” Riz says, with such finality in his tone that Cory believes him for the briefest moment, that gleam of hope shining through.

Cory lifts a hand to wipe at his face, brush away his tears. “You sound like a broken record,” he teases lightly, voice cracking ironically in the middle.

“Broken record, broken neck,” Riz jokes back, and the tension diffuses as though it were never there in the first place.

And so they sit, curled together and basking in the late night peace for several moments longer.

“Thanks,” Cory says.

“It’s alright.” A pause. “You deserve to be happy, y’know? Ya both do.”

“Do I?” it slips out accidentally, barely audible, and he relishes in the way it seems to lessen the weight crushing his chest.

“Yeah,” Riz says, with no hesitation, like it’s obvious. “‘Course you do. You both do.”

There’s that feeling again, making his skin crawl. And although talking to Riz has helped loads, and he’s grateful for him, it doesn’t mean Cory is going to start believing everything this instant. That he’s going to believe he’s not actually his deadbeat dad, that he’s a decent person, that he and Naveed could maybe be something, one day, because they’re allowed to be happy.

“C’mon, then,” he says, and he’s shifting to his feet before he can change his mind. Once standing, he extends a hand to Riz, who takes it and is yanked to his feet. “Best be getting to sleep.”

He shuts the back door as Riz shoots him a comforting smile, trotting into the living room, and just like that, the conversation dissipates as though it never happened. Except it’s replaying in Cory’s mind on a loop, full of colour, and he sees the soft expression on Riz’s face every time he blinks, hears his own voice echoing _I like him, and I don’t know what to do-_

It’s enough to make Cory halt when he reaches the doorway. Riz is back on his section of the sofa, and Naveed hasn’t moved an inch from where he’s still curled up on the opposite end, breathing slow.

He thinks Riz must see the way his eyes linger on Naveed, the way his body just relaxes somehow, as though the clouds have cleared and the sun is able to shine back through after days of constant downpour.

“You’re kind of obvious,” Riz teases gently, as he’s walking over to curl up in the middle, between his two friends.

“Shut up,” it’s soft, without any real bark, and he can’t help but smile at Riz because he’s such a twat sometimes.

“If it helps,” Riz continues, and there’s something like laughter dancing in his eyes when he speaks. “He’s kind of obvious, too.”

Perhaps Cory should already be aware of this, because he knows Naveed likes him, to an extent. He just never truly believed it, never truly thought that he still would, after everything. So when Riz says so, confirms that it’s not all in Cory’s head, it makes a fluttering feeling in his chest come out.

Maybe he could do this, after all.

 

* * *

 

 

He can’t do this.

The sunlight streams through the curtains as day approaches, and the boys begin to toss and turn the more time passes, begin to wake up after a decent night’s sleep. It’s arguably one of the best nights he’s had for weeks, even after how emotional he’d been last night, because he’s got his boys with him.

Cory wakes first, accustomed to loud bangs or furious yells bouncing off of the walls, enough noise to make the house appear full. He feels exhausted, hair all over the place and eyes still hooded with sleep. It’s not long before Riz is behind him, and then Naveed, groans filling the space around them as they stretch in various different ways.

“I hate this brace,” Riz moans. “I hate _you_ , for doing this to me.” He emphasises that by prodding Cory’s thigh with his foot, which Cory swats away. “And I hate _you_ , too.”

“What have I done?” Naveed huffs playfully, a smile as bright as the sun streaming through plastered on his face.

“You’re his accomplice.”

“I didn’t have any part in breaking ya neck!”

“You did, kind of.”

It makes Naveed and Riz both freeze, the confusion radiating from them in waves. His mind is racing and his hearts in overdrive, but he thinks about the conversation he’d had with Riz the night before. Thinks about how safe he’d felt, talking to him, and how Naveed had reassured him with _you’re my best friend-_

“What did I do to ya?” Naveed asks, still smiling slightly.

_What haven’t you done to me?_

“You kissed me,” Cory breathes out, sounding like a revelation as opposed to old news. He doesn’t quite know why now, of all times, he’s able to get things out.

He thinks it’s because Naveed looked so content, so happy, that it made Cory feel as though he could do anything. He thinks it’s because he knows these are two of the greatest people he knows, two of his best friends, that won’t judge him for anything.

He thinks he just doesn’t want to run anymore, that he wants to take the plunge before he gets too scared again, before he has to wait for another chance that for all he knows may never come, not like this.

“See?” Riz bursts, tone light despite the thickening atmosphere. “Accomplice.”

Naveed still hasn’t said a word, and Cory still hasn’t moved, locked in place as though one slight movement would cause everything to shatter.

“I was a mess already, but then you kissed me and I got scared.”

And he ran out onto the field as though running from his problems, from how soft that one kiss had felt and from how quickly it had brought everything he knew crashing to the ground. That he was straight, that he wouldn’t be tied down to anyone. It had all gone out the window, and he couldn’t see clearly anymore.

Now though, he thinks, the fog might be clearing a bit and he might be able to find his way through the dark.

“I’m not gonna blow this,” floats around his head, enlightened and secure, all because of one person. The one next to him. The one he wants, and he hopes still wants him back.

Even though Cory had blown the opportunity at being noticed by the scout, had blown the chance to provide and be a good brother, to make his dad feel like he can actually be proud of him for once, this is different.

This, he knows, he’s not going to blow.

Not this time.

Riz leans forward, breaking him out of his bubble, as he stretches to reach his phone on the table. He stands then, glancing between the two of them with an undecipherable expression, before holding it up. “I’m going to go answer this,” he states, before backing out of the room towards the kitchen, gone before they can even open their mouths.

Naveed finally speaks, blinking slow. “That phone didn’t even _ring_ ,” he says flatly.

Cory can’t help but snort, and then Naveed giggles, and the pair of them are spluttering because as much as they adore Riz, he’s an absolute twat sometimes.

“You think he’s trying to give us some space?”

“Maybe,” Cory says, and it’s enough to pull him back down from the clouds. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

He doesn’t want this to be a maybe.

“I never meant to scare you, you know.”

“I know,” he says, turning to face Naveed and give him his full attention, to show him that he’s serious. “You caught me off guard.”

He watches Naveed’s face soften. “Look, Cory,” he starts.

Cory sits up, moving closer, and it’s enough to make him stop talking. “Can I just - can I just try and get this out, before I bottle it?”

Naveed swallows, and waits. “Okay.”

He has to do that thing again, where he counts to ten in his head because everything is becoming too much. He gets to three before he blurts out, “You love me.”

And that’s _not_ how he wanted this to go, it’s not what he wanted to say, not like this. Even when he tries, his brain overworks and he can’t string together even the simplest of sentences, those three words he’s been dying to say. Naveed hasn’t heard it yet, might not even think Cory feels like that, but he knows now what this means. How he feels. And it’s not a lot, it’s the faintest of understanding, the knowledge that he wants this, wants them, and he wants Naveed to know that.

The thing is, though, Naveed doesn’t even look fazed by Cory’s outburst. He’s reaching over slowly, hand outstretched and eyes hesitant, waiting for Cory to say anything to get him to stop. He doesn’t, so Naveed rests his hand atop of Cory’s and keeps it there, warm and grounding, no pressure for them to do anything else.

“I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be with someone like I want to be with you. I don’t know how to even talk about how I’m feeling, or what it even is. I just know that I want it, _this_.” Cory swallows. “You, and me.”

“Cory-”

“I like you,” he tells Naveed, so softly that if they weren’t sitting close, he would’ve missed it. “I like you, and I don’t know what to do. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to try and figure it out.”

“Are you sure, though?” Naveed asks gently. “I don’t want you to feel like because we’ve been together, that I expect anything from you now.”

“I know that.”

“I just want you happy,” Naveed whispers, almost exhales as though it holds too much weight. “There’s a lot going on for you, and I don’t want to add to that, I don’t want to make it worse.”

_You deserve to be happy_ , Riz echoes from the night before.

“You make it better,” Cory whispers back. “I didn’t think I’d want anyone like this. Didn’t think anyone would want me, either.” He has to pause because he can feel the tears building in his eyes, the familiar onslaught of burning that makes his chest ache. “You need to know that I’m not easy to-” to _love._

Even though he’s trying, even though he wants to be able to say certain things without flinching, without that dark feeling creeping in, he can’t. It’s too deep, too _much_ , and he needs Naveed to know that. That he’s a handful, that he’s a mess. That there’s a chance to back out of this entirely before they fall too deep.

(It’s too late though, isn’t it?)

“I like to think I know you by now,” Naveed says, hand shifting so that his thumb brushes the back of Cory’s knuckle. “And I know it’s not going to be easy. Nothing ever is. I knew that then, and I know it now, and nothing’s changed.”

“Still?” it’s ripped from him, as though he hadn’t a choice. “Even after how I treated you?” _After I hurt you?_ “You still love me?”

“I do,” he whispers, like he’s been caught out. As though it weren’t obvious anyway, from the kisses they’d shared to the fact they slept together. Except it hadn’t been, not like that. Not to Cory.

Not until now, hearing Naveed confirm it. Seeing the way Naveed looks at Cory, written all over his face, something Cory didn’t know before. Or if he didn’t, he couldn’t understand. Couldn’t let himself.

He wants to, though.

And he does.

“I do love you,” Naveed tells him, patient and good and everything Cory needs. “Is that alright?”

Cory swallows, a lump in his throat making it difficult, and he shifts his hand so that his fingers worm their way in between the gaps of Naveed’s, palms clasped. He holds on like it’s all he has to offer, and in a way, it is.

It’s only when Naveed squeezes back that he feels it might be enough, this time.

He’s leaning in before he can stop himself, before he runs his mouth and ruins everything all over again. One of his hands is still linked with Naveed’s, his other hand reaching up to rest against the side of Naveed’s neck, thumb grazing his cheek as he pulls him in.

_You know, the world doesn’t just end because the person you like happens to be a boy_ , Cory remembers from last night. He finds that Riz was right, after all, because his world isn’t ending.

It’s just starting.

Kissing Naveed is just like how he remembered it to be. Soft and slow, like the start of time mixed with that unforgettable feeling of coming home. There’s warmth washing all over him, right down his spine and to his toes, and he decides that not even the dark inside him can compare to this, to the sun coming out.

Cory feels himself falling further than he intended. His tongue darts out to brush against Naveed’s bottom lip, whose spare hand is in his hair and pulling him closer, neither of them willing to let go of each other’s hand, not even for this. Naveed’s mouth moves against his gently, the soft sounds between them making him feel like for once, he’s got _something_ figured out.

And he pulls away with softly, nose brushing against Naveed’s before he’s tilting his head, grazing it against Naveed’s cheek. Cory grins into his skin, leaving open mouthed kisses along his jaw, relishing in the way Naveed lets out a breathy laugh.

“I know you need time,” he whispers, as Cory keeps his face tucked into the side of his throat, hiding away. His fingers run through Cory’s hair and he has to close his eyes and remind himself to breathe, that this isn’t a dream for once. “And that’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I don’t know what to call this,” he admits, somewhat shamefully, because despite it being as clear as day that he should be calling Naveed his boyfriend, he’s not there yet. He’s still afraid, still walking on glass, and he worries that someone’s going to come along and take this away from him. There’s so much to figure out, but he feels like he’ll never have enough time. “I’ve been so scared to tell you how I felt, and to kiss you again, that the thought of - of calling you my _boyfriend_ is-”

“Too much?” Naveed prompts quietly, and it reminds Cory who it is he’s talking to. And slowly, all these thoughts of how Naveed would react, that he would think struggling with that label is unacceptable, all fades away.

“Yeah,” he admits thickly. A pause. “I’m sorry.”

“We don’t have to call it anything you don’t want to. We can just call it us.”

“I like that,” Cory whispers. _Us_. It’s generalised, it’s mutual. It’s safe, like these four walls should feel to him, only ten times better. “I like you.”

Naveed laughs.

“That’s a relief, because I like you too.”

And they share a look, because they’re both hyperaware that it’s more than that, always has been, but it doesn’t need to be said for them to know. They do, always, and Cory has high hopes now that one day, he can upgrade those three little words for the three big ones, the ones he’s going to mean with all his heart.

Cory glances down, traces Naveed’s knuckles with his fingertips. “Us,” he parrots, like he’s trying the word for the first time. It just fits, better than anything else possibly could at this moment, just like he feels whenever Naveed does so much as look at him.

They sit there for a moment, basking in the early morning glow and the warmth that they’ve created. They’re cross legged, facing each other with their knees touching, Cory’s face still embedded into the curve of Naveed’s shoulder, hands intertwined with no intention to let go.

“I wonder how Riz is coping with that phone call,” Naveed says after a beat, and it makes Cory snicker, the sound soaked up by Naveed’s skin.

Cory removes himself from the embrace to briefly throw his head back and yell, “Riz, you can get off the phone!” before letting his head drop back into place. He hears thumping in the distance, and then Naveed’s pressing a kiss to his forehead, the rise and fall of his chest keeping in steady rhythm with the beat of Cory’s heart.

He hears Riz before he bothers to crane his neck to look at him, lurking in the doorway. “Are you guys together now?” he asks, with all the attitude of a five year old.

Cory can’t help the way he stiffens, the fear of having to explain himself to somebody other than Naveed. _I’m not gay, but I don’t know what I am. He’s not my boyfriend, not yet, but I like him. I want to be with him, but I’m afraid._

Naveed says nothing, just waits for Cory to make the call, and Cory doesn’t think he can be any more gone for him if he tried.

“We’re something,” he settles on, and somehow, it sums them up perfectly.

He feels Naveed grin against the side of his head. “We’re _something_.”

Riz doesn’t question the phrasing, but instead flops down onto the sofa as though he were never gone. “Finally,” he says, and the three of them break out into identical smiles.

Riz and Naveed go back and forth as Cory pulls away, back resting against the cushions so that he can look at them both. He still clings to Naveed’s hand like a lifeline, still drapes a leg over his to have that feeling, that warmth. For a while, their conversation fades into the background as Cory just stares at the way Naveed holds him, like nothing else matters.

Because it doesn’t.

Riz is cackling at something by the time Cory lifts his eyes again to look at Naveed, whose already looking back at him with a soft smile. He mirrors it instantly, uncontrollably, squeezing his hand as if to remind him, _I like you._

The one he gets in return feels like Naveed says the exact same thing.

And when he looks at Cory again, eyes light and full of happiness, it’s like Cory is hearing it all over again. The soft, “Is that alright?” that followed Cory’s vulnerable phrase, his disbelief of, “You love me?”

_Yeah_ , he thinks, as he leans forward to kiss him again.

_Yeah, it is._

**Author's Note:**

> I tried my best to do some writing, but I'm a little rusty. Hopefully they weren't too out of character and that this wasn't as much of a mess as I thought. That being said, thanks for reading! :)


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